


And I Will Love You Always, If Even Not Forever

by Winterberry_UwU



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Sad, i cried, like really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterberry_UwU/pseuds/Winterberry_UwU
Summary: Grantaire has some things he needs to work out.A very sad, depressing les mis fanfiction. At least in my opinion.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	And I Will Love You Always, If Even Not Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction! Yay! *throws glitter* it’s probably trash, but I would like some feedback if you thought it was okay-ish

Most of the time, Grantaire will not miss Enjolras.

He will not miss the disappointment, the words that cut like glass.

He will not miss the way that every barb that fell from those lips cut right through all his barriers and tore him up inside.

He will not miss the way Enjolras stood before their friends, bright and sharp and blinding as the sun.

He will not forget that glow, but he will not miss it. Not at all.

And that will be fine. That will be perfectly okay.

Grantaire will refuse to miss Enjolras’s grace, his elegance, his hands as they curl in the lapels of his jacket, resplendent and angelic and gorgeous—

Least of all will he miss Enjolras’s beauty.

Blue and gold and red. He will not miss it.

He will not miss his eyes, blue as water and free as the sky, but cold and hard as ice when turned upon Grantaire.

He will not miss the halo of golden light that was his hair.

He will not miss the threads of stolen sunlight that adorned Enjolras, blessing him with light and hope. 

Most days he will not miss him. Not Enjolras, not E. His E. R and E. 

He will not. 

Tonight is the night before the red dawn Enjolras has been singing of for days, and all around the barricade everyone else is crying and laughing and saying goodbyes.

“It’s been fun,” Enjolras says. “We’ve had a few laughs, among other things.”

Grantaire subconsciously adds words to this, both his Enjolras's.

I’d say we had times, times. Just times, you know, and not all of them good.

But really, Grantaire, you’ve got to be realistic here.

You can’t seriously tell me that you thought we were ‘forever’. We aren’t meant to have a happily ever after.

I mean. Let’s be honest here. We’ve been playing a child’s game. It’s high time we grew up.

Tomorrow it all ends, so let’s leave this childhood shit behind, shall we?

Grantaire chokes back a sob. “Let’s have a drink.”

Two glasses of wine wait upon an empty table with empty chairs that may never be filled again. Both are red. Enjolras likes white, but it’s better this way.

“Alright,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire adds his own words.

Drink with me, one last time.

Drink with me, with ice blue eyes.

Drink to us.

To everything.

To endings, happy or otherwise.

There are no real beginnings, just ends, and many of them loose.

To beginnings, and to forever.

No, not forever. Nothing lasts forever.

Saying so doesn’t make it true, you know.

Okay.

Everything will be okay.

And a glass of red is lifted to lips so red, red disappearing behind wine tinted lips, and just a little bit trickles out in a thin rivulet, falling from the corner of a bittersweet mouth, and you want to go and lick it off and taste the revolution on his tongue but you mustn’t, you really mustn’t.

And you watch him close his eyes and you wish that you were not a failure and that you could ask him to love you, because rejection has to lose its potency over time, right? And he is so lovely, so beautiful, and he is there. But you mustn’t, you really mustn’t.

And so you smile softly, oh so softly, and think: this way, it will be better, and this way, everything will be okay.

And he will look at you strangely and say, “what?”

And you will say, “oh, nothing.”

And you will want to kiss him and you want to, just one last time on the mouth, to pull this kiss into a memory and keep it forever.

No, not forever. Forever only lasts ‘till dawn.

Oh, how Grantaire wishes he could keep dawn away forever.

Or keep forever away from the dawn.

Whichever.

And he won’t cry,

And he won’t say goodbye,

And everything will be okay.

And maybe, if you close your eyes, you won’t ever see the dawn break over the barricade, and you won’t watch the sun rise to a climax only to fall, and you will wake up to the moon in the sky alone, without the sun to give him light. 

And you will go on without him, trapped in a body you never liked anyway, haunting a café in France because you are a coward.

Most of the time, Grantaire will not miss Enjolras. Sometimes, however, he will, and in those sometimes he cannot overpower the sweeping tides of need or the rolling waves of remorse. 

But that’s okay too, because in those sometimes he can fly up high, just for a little, and turn and face the sun and kiss his ice blues and his burning lips and his rosy skin, and feel the sunlight in his eyes and in his hair and in his heart.

-finite-

**Author's Note:**

> *wipes tears*


End file.
